


Finding a New Normal

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Castiel, Blind Character, Castiel is a Softie, Dean Comes Out, Dean is a Softie, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, First Kiss, Jessica Ships It, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mild Language, Openly Bisexual Dean, Ring Mishaps, Sam Is So Done, Slow Dancing, Softies All Around, Techie Castiel, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Am I that obvious?” Jess gaped at him in a way that said he knew the answer.</p><p>“Please, you might as well be wearing a bell every time he so much as looks at you.”</p><p>The eldest shifted uncomfortably. “You think Sam’s okay with it?” </p><p>“What? With you finally finding peace with yourself?” she said, and when Dean looked at her again, he didn’t see the face of Jessica Moore, the girlfriend, but Jess, the loving mother. “That ring on the other hand…” Dean shook his head. He was never going to live that down.</p><p>Or the one where Dean comes out /and/ meets the love of his life on the same day. Oh yeah, and it's on the day of his baby brother's wedding, no less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding a New Normal

Dean cast a sidelong glance at his brother, who was admiring his reflection in the mirror. Sam looked good, _really_ good. He sported a navy blue three-piece with a white corsage to compliment his tie. His hair was combed back and over his forehead; revealing something that bared a close resemblance to a face. His mouth was victim to a brutal game of tug of war the way his lips curved into a proud smile. He’s the happiest Dean’s seen him in years.

That wouldn’t explain why he was so goddamn nervous. This was Sam’s wedding; next to his bride-to-be he was the only person who had the right to experience cold feet. Only, he hadn’t even checked into their honeymoon suite and Sam was already gloating. This was a momentous occasion— _supposedly_ once in a lifetime no less. He had every right to gloat. If anything, Dean should be proud he raised someone who doesn’t cower in the face of commitment. For what it was worth, Sam was a good man.

Sam, whose first words and steps were dedicated to Dean. The same person who was a father _and_ a mother to him would sooner than later watch him be the same to his children. Something about that thought filled him with equal parts enlightenment, joy, and fear. Except the fear he felt wasn’t accredited to the idea of Sam coping without him—that he would do just fine. It was Dean who feared the idea of coping without Sam.

He shifted his focus to the man in the mirror staring back at him. Dean was garbed in the same attire, only his hair was parted down the side and the garment around his neck was shorn of a tail. It was an unusual sight, given he toiled in coveralls for most of his life, but not entirely an unwelcome one. It was a nice change, ditching the dirt and oil for a shower.

His eyes tracked the knotted part of Sam’s tie before he began retying it. There was nothing wrong with the way he tied it, Dean just needed a new focal point. Sam didn’t seem to mind. He used the time to comb through the vows he no doubt wrote the second he met Jessica. “Has anyone told you today how much of a cliché you are?”

The youngest met Dean’s reflection with an acidic smile. “That depends, has anyone told you today how much of a dick you are?”

“Well, you are what you eat so.”

Now it was Dean who was gloating as he witnessed his brother go completely speechless. Sam, the same guy who rehearsed his _Dear John’s_ minutes before his wedding. Dean wasn’t entirely proud of the build-up, but he had to admit, he felt a little better. “Please tell me you didn’t just come out to me on my wedding day.”

“Was my staging off? Maybe I should’ve stuck with the cake jump.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting into this with a guy who can’t pass Boy Scouts 101.” Dean cast a fleeting glance at his tie. Though he made a fair point, he was a mechanic, not a big-shot lawyer like _some_ people in the room.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They held an intense staring competition for what felt like ages before Dean’s lip quivered. No, there was no way he was crying. Dean Winchester may refer to himself in the third person, but he didn't cry—that was a fact. Ever since that fateful day he got his first eviction notice from his mother’s womb, he’s been tear-free with a one-hundred percent satisfaction guarantee.

Unfortunately, his heart had severed relations with his brain long ago. “Look at you, man,” he said; shoving him playfully, “you’re all grown up.” Sam threw a grin over his shoulder.

“C’mon, you wuss,” he chided, heading for the door, “we have a wedding to steal.”

***

The reception was held in the backyard of the Winchester-Moore’s Colonial-style home. Orchestrating the event from start to finish was a planner by the name of Becky Rosen. Though she was a bit too mercurial for Dean’s liking, she had exquisite taste.

The path leading to the stage was carved out of white lisianthus—which Dean quickly learned was the lady intended’s favorite carnation after hours of swapping a few uncouth words with the local florist. Hanging from the backdrop in the center of the plot contiguous to bouquet of flowers and a glass chandelier were innumerous photographs of the two. Jessica had her head thrown back in laughter for most, while Sam had his face buried in his hands for something he had said two years prior.

Jessica was always out of Sam’s league, but she was more so now in her bridal gown. The wife-to-be wore a sequined dress with a lace backing. A single white rose held her blonde fishtail updo, exposing a pair of pearl drop earrings. Other than a thin line of eyeliner and lip gloss, she wore very little makeup, which reflected onto her character. Jess was a small town girl; she didn’t need much to feel, let alone look like a million bucks.

Dean spent the remainder of his evening at the buffet table. It was probably in his best interest to stick to the company of headless poultry and jumbo shrimp after the stunt he pulled during the ring bearing. (In his defense, all rings _felt_ the same, and that Bachelor Party kicked ass no thanks to him.) Even so, he was dragged away for the occasional picture with the happy couple, which consisted of Sam throwing his arm around the best man and making pretend for a few clicks and flashes that he wasn’t feuding with Dean.

So basically everything was back to normal.

He popped a hushpuppy in his mouth when a low voice rattled, “You seem troubled.”

Dean spun on his heel to a strapping white male casting an aslant glance at him. His lips were pursed and he wore black aviators, a complimenting vest, and a maroon tie. The gray long sleeve underneath his blazer was hiked up to his elbows, revealing a long line of smooth, golden skin while his slim fingers rested in the neat pocket between his thighs.

“Uh, excuse me?” he said, only half-hearing him over all the handsome.

The stranger was firm as he repeated, “You seem troubled.”

“I’m just angling for a hushpuppy, is that a crime?”

“No, but bringing a cock ring to your brother’s wedding is violation of bro-code, I’d say.”

Dean derided the remark with a laugh. “Look, no offense, pal, but you don’t even know me.”

“You’re Dean, right? Sam’s brother?”

“Yeah,” he said, treading carefully, “how do you—?”

“Friend of a friend, you know Charlie Bradbury?”

The first-born scoffed, “Know her; we practically grew up at each other’s houses.”

“I work with her in IT at Roman Enterprises. She’s going through a hard time; long story short, she made me her plus one to her best friend’s wedding. She speaks fondly of you,” he replied, an unmistakable smile crossing his stoic features as if to reassure him, “I’m Castiel.”

Despite his boldness, Dean feels a little more comfortable with the knowledge that this guy was with Charlie. Dean may or may not have tried his luck with a pun the day he heard about the collapse of her former relationship (“Guess two reds don’t make a right, huh?”) that may or may not have landed him in the gutter. He would no doubt have to fish his way out the same way he fished the original ring out of his pocket moments ago.

“Uh, this is probably a personal question,” Dean started, taking an empty seat next to him, “but considering the fact that you and half of California knows I own a cock ring, I guess nothing’s too personal anymore.” The other man’s lips turned up at that. “How did you know? You know, since you’re…?”

Castiel promptly filled in the blank, “Blind? It’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. And what I draw from isn’t so much observation as it is fact.” He paused, turning the handle of his cane in Dean’s direction. “Your brother’s growing up and it scares the shit out of you. He found a new normal, one without you, and there’s not much you can do but clamp him on the back and pray to whoever’s got their ears on that he’ll be okay.”

Dean drank that in before saying,“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Cas.”

Castiel—or Cas, as he unconsciously branded him—nodded. “My little sister, Anna, she reminds me of Charlie in a lot of ways. I guess that’s why I keep her as a close friend. Anna was never a homebody. She wanted to travel the world, find adventure. And for what it’s worth, she did, and she’s happy. And best of all, she never had to settle down for anyone.”

“I can’t imagine settling down myself,” Dean admitted, curtailing his response with a curt laugh before continuing on to say, “I ain’t exactly a role model, you know?”

Before Cas could get a word in, Dean was ringing out the rim of his wine glass with his fork. All conversations were cut short as every guest in the small but quaint amphitheater turned their attention to the best man.

Dean raised his glass to the first few sentences of his speech. “Uh, good evening, everyone. First I’d like to go off-record saying that this speech is completely impromptu, so I apologize in advance for the slew of ums and uhs and the awkward pauses in-between.” That elicited a few laughs from the bride’s section. Dean turned his attention there. “Secondly, I’d like to thank the bride’s parents for hosting this event and for raising a beautiful daughter. Sorry, Sam, but that dress wouldn’t look nearly as flattering on you.”

He could hear Sam on the other side of the field clicking his tongue. When he turned, he saw Jess blushing furiously into his neck. He glanced down at Cas, who wore a small smile.

“Alright, now bear with me, I’m gonna attempt a serious speech. Sam, what can I say, man? We grew up together, and in that time, I watched you not only _outgrow_ me, but become the man you are today. We’ve had our share of fallouts, and I know I’m not always the best brother, but believe me when I say that I am so proud of you. I always have been.

But this day isn’t about me, this is about you. It’s only going to be an uphill battle from here, and I have complete faith that you’ll tackle every day with a smile. God, I mean even when you were this chubby little kid—shorn of parents, a house, a place to call home—you were always smiling. And I hope being with Jessica brings you a lifetime of happiness.”

The only sound that could be heard was the crickets in the nearby foliage when Dean lifted his glass in one last salute. Shortly after he took a sip, he was snapping his finger. “Oh, and uh, I don’t know about anyone else here but I’m ready to get _Footloose._ Sammy, with your permission, I’d like to steal Jess for a vertical tango around the dancefloor. I’ll save the horizontal version for you.” He tossed his brother a wink.

The ambience livened up immediately after the band began playing. He felt a hand on his wrist before he met Castiel’s ridiculously attractive face. “I’m no expert,” he said over the graceful slide of a cello, “but I’d say that was role model material.”

Dean licked his lips, preparing a bit, when Jessica found their table. With a grin, she said, “The husband sends his regards and permission to dance.”

“He’s so generous,” he replied, replicating the same acidic smile Sam supplied him earlier. He gestured to Cas. “Cas, this is Jess, Jess, Cas.”

Castiel held the hand she leant out, cradling it with both hands before kissing the surface. _Nice touch._ “I wish you and the groom all the best.” Jessica’s eyes blossomed.

“Enchanté, Cas,” she said, grinning even wider as Dean escorted her to the dancing area. Dean tracked her eyes as they went, which landed on an unmistakable ginger guiding Castiel to the floor. Jess must have picked up on something in his eyes because a minute or so after they started dancing, she slapped his shoulder. “You like him.”

Dean let out a breath he had been holding since he crossed paths with the chivalrous guest. “Am I that obvious?” Jess gaped at him in a way that said he knew the answer.

“Please, you might as well be wearing a bell every time he so much as looks at you.”

The eldest shifted uncomfortably. “You think Sam’s okay with it?”

“What? With you finally finding peace with yourself?” she said, and when Dean looked at her again, he didn’t see the face of Jessica Moore, the girlfriend, but Jess, the loving mother. “That ring on the other hand…” Dean shook his head. He was never going to live that down.

He kept her close until he felt the warmth of a familiar hand on his bicep. “Mind if I cut in?” Jessica politely excused herself as Castiel’s hand found Dean’s waist. Before he could wrap his other hand around him, Dean interlaced his fingers with his and began swaying. The band changed a little too conveniently to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and in that moment, between the slow strum of the ukulele and the warm, rhythmic breaths hitting his nape, Dean mistook his brother’s backyard for Heaven.

However, there was one thing missing from his Kingdom Come. Dean knocked his thumb a few times on Cas’s waist, seizing the other man’s attention. He used his other to prudently slip his sunglasses over his head, revealing an expanse of breathtaking blue unlike anything he had ever imagined. Castiel beamed up at him, a blush crowding his cheeks. Dean did everything in his power not to kiss him right then and there, which proved to be difficult when Cas closed the space between them, effectively nabbing his lips.

All eyes zeroed in not on the couple taking center stage, but the ones off to the side, moving to their own beat. Some cooed and others snapped pictures while one man, namely the one standing beside his new wife, murmured, “Son of a bitch stole my wedding.”

**Author's Note:**

> Best Man Speech inspired by this cute video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyTzU_lqXjk  
> I encourage you to watch it, it'll put a smile on your face!


End file.
